


If the Scorpion Loved the Frog — A Milippa Drabble

by dolcewrites



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Based on 2x05: Saints of Imperfection, Drabble, F/F, Pining, Unrequited Love, inner thoughts, milippa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 18:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolcewrites/pseuds/dolcewrites
Summary: Philippa’s take on her conversation with Michael in Saints of Imperfection.





	If the Scorpion Loved the Frog — A Milippa Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2am, what am I doing anymore rip
> 
> PSA: I have a side tumblr for Disco fanfics! Follow @justmilippathings for writing updates, submitting ideas, or simply chatting if you’d like :)

It wasn’t so much of the distrust than it was of the hatred in Michael’s eyes that flashed through Philippa’s mind every waking moment.

 

Her heart ached, watching Michael shy away from her like that. All this exhausting work she did, the researching, the planning, the calculating. It wasn’t that she enjoyed it more than when she did all of that back in the Terran empire. But it wouldn’t have been nearly as thankless if Michael could do so much as smile at the strings she had pulled to orchestrate an outcome she knew she would like.

 

She loves me, she loves me not. I love her.

 

Michael had a big heart, that Philippa was sure of. She was empathetic enough to give second changes and stand up for those who could not do so for themselves. She protected Tilly. She protected Saru. She protected Tyler, even, back when he was just a confused Klingon-uttering freak. But she protected herself against Philippa, and it perplexed her all the more. Perhaps Michael didn’t approve of her. Her way of thinking, her own set of morals, her slinking around without ever getting out of Michael’s sights. But she was good, wasn’t she, like she’d promised for Michael on Qo’nos. She didn’t have to come for Philippa. Philippa came for her.

 

And what did she expect, really. Years’ worth of Philippa’s personality and beliefs, shredded to pieces and remoulded into that soft Starfleet nonsense as soon as she crossed universes? Michael may be idealistic, but she was also a xenoanthropologist. Could she really blame Philippa for being herself? It was ridiculous to expect a change, even more so to expect for her old captain back. Surely, surely Michael knew that? She would be too smart, too logical as a Vulcan-raised woman, to think otherwise.

 

Philippa groaned in the silence of her own quarters, her communication device shaking in her grip, her fingers hovering over the buttons. It didn’t make sense. Her feet padded the slick marble ground as her mind paced around the problem, trying to find a solution, any new leads to hold onto and develop. Nothing.

 

Why did Michael hate her so? Was she giving up on Philippa because she could not recognise the woman she wanted?

 

If their bond really was strong enough to cross universes, then Philippa would pray to any exterior forces that they bring herself and Michael together, as well. She loved the woman so damn hard that she would give anything for a gleam of happiness out of her. She even showed Michael the best gift in her book: mercy.

 

“Heard you bought us some time.” Philippa scoffed as Michael’s cold words resurfaced in her mind, blindingly fresh and equally wounding. Bought would be an understatement. Her gratitude, unlike L’Rell’s, was long overdue. But even gratitude was secondary to what Philippa was really looking for in Michael: a smile.

 

Philippa did not make Michael happy. Rather, Michael had made it clear that there was no way Philippa could make her happy. She had shut her heart to the only woman who truly cared about her. Why, why, why?

 

Three minutes and thirty seconds brought Dr. Culber back. A whole, live person. And not to mention, her precious little Tilly was also pulled out alive and well. She should be happy, relieved. But why deprive Philippa of her joy, her sunshine? What had she done to Michael, really?

 

Perhaps it was that hydro bomb on Qo’nos. Michael didn’t like hearing of that plan, and she single-handedly shut the operation down, as Philippa had warned Admiral Cornwell. But she forgets that it was an order from Starfleet, not something secretly planned by Philippa herself. She had no interest in conquering the Federation-softened quadrant. Hell, before she met Leland, she had no interest in working among space altogether. She would have been pleased with a half-assed strippers job in the very same club for the rest of her life. As long as she had access to reports which show Michael living her best life.

 

Philippa thought back to what she had told L’Rell on Qo’nos: relationships are parasitic. A liability that wastes your time, effort, and offsets your loyalties. Thinking back, this was the first time she’d hoped she was lying.

 

In all fairness, she didn’t have much to dedicate herself to. The only thing she liked about Section 31 was her ability to use her ability, and play with the toys they had. She cared not for their morals, or what purpose their mission served. In an organisation where good and evil were blurred lines, it would simply be a waste of time to ponder the ethics. As a result Philippa found her mind free and idle to think about Michael.

 

She really was terribly kind and lovely, that girl. Philippa only wished she could hold her tight and tell her so.

 

Why the shut gates? Why the long face? What do you have against me, Michael?

 

Philippa could have spent an entire lifetime planning this and it would still have felt raw and unready. A direct confrontation would work. A simple, messy truth, too, three words too easy to say but hard to grapple back, like trying to scoop water thrown onto the pavement. But then again, Philippa had nothing to lose. She only felt a nervous lump in her throat rising as she pressed the button on her communication panel.

 

In the brief window, she found the time to adjust her hair, making sure it was pristine, presentable — sincere. And when the image of Michael flashed onscreen, she found herself prematurely stammering, until the avatar’s mouth opened.

 

“Commander Burnham is currently unavailable. Playing pre-recorded message from Commander Michael Burnham to Captain Philippa Georgiou.”

 

Three words, loud and clear.

 

“Piss off, rat.”

 

Oh.

 

“I had three words for you too, Michael,” she muttered as the avatar disappeared with the transmission’s ending.

 

She was locking those three words in a neat little cage — a scorpion’s shell — and burying it in the depths of ocean-kissed sands. A way of drowning her sorrows.

 

A Terran heart was extremely fragile when armour was out of the equation. For the first time in her carefully guarded life, Philippa felt it break.

What 

**Author's Note:**

> The tension between Philippa and Michael in this episode was so good, my Milippa senses are killing me.
> 
> Unpolished, but I may come back for it in the morning. Hope you liked it anyways! :)


End file.
